Nightlock
by kirasometimes
Summary: "The only thing I've ever given Peeta Mellark is pain." - Post-Mockingjay; ficlet.


**Title: **Nightlock

**Author: **Claddagh Ring

**AN: **This is **Post-Mockingjay**. There's not really much to say about this. I wrote it in about thirty minutes because **1)** I needed a break from all the work I've been doing on my _Charmed_ and _Vampire Diaries_ stories and **2)** I kept going over this one line in my head after I finished Mockingjay:_"There are still moments when [Peeta] clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over." _The image stuck with me and I just had to put my spin on it.

* * *

I wake up to screaming. It takes me a full minute to realize it isn't mine.

I race down the hall to find him pressed into a corner, hands clawing at his head. There is blood running down the side of his face, and for a second, I can't figure out where it's coming from. His fingers are bloody, broken and raw. His sharp jagged fingernails dig into his flesh, tearing and ripping. It's like if he could just dig deep enough, he could tear the memory out of his mind.

"Peeta," I say. I hope my voice is as demanding as it sounds in my head. It's the only way to get through to him. Leave no room for questions, so there no gray area for him to get lost in. I can tell by the way his body goes perfectly still that he hears me. I always worry about what goes on in his head when he's so rigid. Is he waiting for an order like a good soldier from 13, or is he preparing himself for the sting of a whip from the Capitol?

The shaking starts again in his hands. He crosses his arms over his stomach. His knees are pulled up to his chest, securing his locked limbs in place. His bleeding head rests against his knees. He looks like he could unravel and the only thing that keeps him from falling completely apart is this little box he's folded himself into. He is literally holding himself together.

I don't think I've ever seen him this bad. Not even when they first brought him back after rescuing him from the Capitol. Not ever, and there is no one here beside me to help him this time. I've never been able to help him. It's always been someone else - Haymitch with the medicine in the Games, Finnick in the Quarter Quell, the doctors in 13 – who fix the messes of him I've made.

The only thing I've ever given Peeta Mellark is pain.

I feel like I have to do something. I have to try. I owe him too much to leave him behind again. I'm done losing him.

"Peeta," I say again. He stops rocking back and forth, but this is the only response I get. Carefully, I reach out to him. I briefly remember the way his fingers felt around my neck when he tried to strangle me. This is not what I need right now; not when I'm trying to save him. I force it back and return to the beach the night he gave me the pearl and the hunger I felt for him. It's the one hunger that never really goes away, no matter how good I am at pretending it has.

I have to use both hands to force his head up and even then, his eyes are screwed shut. But I know he knows I'm there, because he is trying so hard to ignore me. He doesn't want to hurt me and he's afraid that he will. It's a very real possibility that he could. All he would have to do is lose his fragile hold on whatever cliff he's dangling off and fall. I could lose him forever.

I do the only thing I was ever good at when it comes to Peeta. I kiss him. He resists at first, pressing his mouth into a hard, unmoving line. So I just sit there, his face cupped in my hands, my lips against his. I don't put any pressure into our kiss, don't try to force it on him. Slowly, his mouth moves against mine. My lips are no longer simply resting on top of his, but are caught up between them. The hunger growls deep within me and it's a miracle I have any form of restraint at this moment.

I let Peeta put an end to it. He lets my lips fall from his and inches back. I open my eyes just as he is opening his. The soft gray reminds me of dawn, just before sunrise when everything is just beginning. It looks so promising, so full of hope. It's a new start.

I smile, a real genuine smile that would probably frighten him even if he were in his right mind. "Real or not real?" I ask him, holding his gaze.

"Real?" he says and shakes his head when he realizes it sounds too much like a question. So he continues. "Real. Always."

He unfolds his body. I can hear his joints unlocking as he stretches. His hand still has a slight shake as he reaches out and takes mine. His eyes are strong now. Steady and clear, unwavering, determined. There is no hiding who he is. All you would have to do it look in his eyes to know him.

"You love me," he says. "Real or not real?"

I can finally admit it. There is no guilt, no confusion, no debt to be paid back. Those things will always be with us, but I can no longer put them between us. Rather, they are a part of us. We've been through too much together to start throwing things away. We have enough holes of our own. There's no need to add to them. Because after everything, there's no way to ignore us anymore.

"Real."

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**PLEASE REVIEW!** I don't write for books very often, so I feel like I'm out of my comfort zone and would very much love and appreciate some feedback.


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